In The Past
by Science-Fantasy93
Summary: After a toxic relationship blows up & James is almost arrested, his mom drags him across the country. At first all he wants is to return to his old life, but as he makes friends & meets a girl who might just make him forget about his mistakes, he finds himself wanting to leave the past in the past. But when his past comes back to haunt him, everything may blow up in his face...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer : I do not own Big Time Rush or anything recognizable in this chapter/story. Thank you and peace out. :)**

 **A/N : So, I wasn't intending on posting this today, but things sort of worked out so here I am. It's been over a year since I've posted a new multi chapter story, so bear with me if my ramblings get to be a bit much. This is one of those ideas that I wasn't expecting to work out, it really isn't. The idea had been stalking me for a few weeks and I finally sat down to write the first couple of chapters. And then I promptly forgot about it. And then I remembered it, only when I went to work on it again I couldn't remember what I'd named it! I spent a few months searching for it until one day I stumbled across it accidentally when I was looking for something else completely different. Amazing how things like that work out, huh? But anyway, I changed the name from something totally generic to a phrase that I noticed kept cropping up in the story.**

 **This story was loosely - very loosely - inspired by All Time Low's song "Coffeeshop Soundtrack". If you don't know the song, it's about a secret, toxic relationship. The idea of the song sort of fascinated me, and I got really obsessed with what would happen after the song ended, after the relationship blew up in everyone's faces. So this is basically what I thought would happen after the aftermath. Like I said, it was loosely inspired by the song, so please don't take it literally :) The song was just something that triggered the idea. Also, this story is part (a small part, seriously...) of the reason that updates for my other stories have been slow. I'll try to work on a story, and then this one is like, "Hey, you should work on me instead. It'll be fun. Also, I'm going to be really obnoxious until you write some more of me so you can't focus on anything else. Muahahahaha!" Seriously. It does that.**

 **This takes place in southern California, in a town that, as far as I know, isn't actually real. If it is, sorry...My bad.**

 **I've also got to thank Jatieluv, who's read a good portion of what I have written and has loved it. She's been urging me to post it, and she even made the gorgeous cover art for it, so take a few minutes to admire it. She worked hard and I love it :) Dana2184...I sent you the first chapter four times and you never read it?! But seriously, this time you get to be surprised by the first chapter, so there ya go :D**

 **Story Warnings : Strong language (seriously, the characters' favorite thing to do is drop the F bomb. It's not even funny), mentions of underage sex, and innuendos. There'll probably be more, but I can't think of anything else.**

 **Enjoy the first chapter :)**

* * *

 **James' POV**

The first day at a new school was like fighting my way through a fucking zombie apocalypse.

At least, that was what it felt like, even though so far there had been zero bloodshed and I hadn't had to dig out a nonexistent weapon from my backpack. Thank goodness. I was having a hard enough time managing to locate my locker without having to elbow my way through hordes of dead people. Needless to say, I wasn't having much fun so far.

It wasn't like I had expected San Luca High to be a Six Flags amusement park. But damn, it would have been nice if they actually had maps to help new students – like, say, me – find their way around. I was a senior and the very idea of having to ask a sophomore for directions sounded about as appealing as getting my teeth pulled without the aid of laughing gas.

I grinded my teeth together as I moved past a couple of girls who were squealing and hugging each other like they hadn't seen each other since 2002. I hurried by a group of kids who were gossiping about some back-to-school party that was taking place on Saturday. I skirted around even more students who were whispering about who-the-hell-knows-what. I didn't really care. I just wanted to find my locker and get to my first class on time.

The only really good thing about being the new kid was that it was the first day of the fall semester, which meant at least I wasn't going to be walking into Calculus like a china doll on display in an antique store window. People would notice me, they just wouldn't notice me as much. And that was perfectly fine with me. After the last two years I had had, I didn't need to draw a lot of attention to myself.

Through some sort of miracle, I managed to locate my locker, get it open, and drop off the books I didn't need for a few periods before making a dash for calc. I found the classroom and slid into the nearest empty seat just as the bell rang. As the teacher introduced himself as Mr. Hernandez, I found myself glancing around the room curiously. My mom had spent the past couple of weeks encouraging me to go out to some of the local haunts she was sure the teenagers hung out at, all in the name of making friends. The only place I had bothered to stop by in the two weeks I had lived here was Starbucks for a Mocha Cookie Crumble frappuccino. Other than that, I had basically been living as a recluse, keeping to my bedroom with my iPod in hand, earbuds in my ears, and cell phone next to me, blocking out the world raging just outside my bedroom window. It was so much easier than having to face my mom's pursed lipped looks and her suggestions that maybe I should go down to the beach or grab some frozen yogurt.

So this was my first time being around teenagers my own age since my junior year had ended. And as much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew going through senior year alone at a new school was going to be a bitch and a half. I just wasn't sure if I really wanted to go through the trouble of making friends when within a year we would all be going our separate ways. Besides, making friends meant actually having to talk to them and explain why my mom and I moved from northern Minnesota to southern California. The reason my mom and I were giving people was simple enough. The real answer was a lot more complicated.

My eyes landed on a guy with dark blond hair and eyebrows that didn't seem to quite go with his hair. He was wearing a Los Angeles Kings t-shirt and my eyebrows skyrocketed. A hockey fan? I had played center for my high school during my freshman and sophomore years, and I knew that this school had a hockey team as well – something not overly common in southern California, though there were a scatter of high schools in the general area with hockey teams. That being said, I hadn't planned on trying out for the team, though I knew tryouts were tomorrow. I just didn't see the point. I hadn't played for over a year and chances were my technique would suck. Anyway, hockey was something I had been pushing aside and ignoring. What was the point of going back?

The rest of calc dragged by slowly. By the time the bell rang, I was almost falling asleep. But in all honesty, that didn't really surprise me. I had tossed and turned the night before, only getting a couple hours of sleep, and I was in dire need of caffeine. So on my way to my next class, I stopped by a soda vending machine. I paid for a Coke and hit the button for it, but instead of the familiar clang of plastic on metal that signaled that the bottle had slid down the chute, there was a grinding sound, followed by a whirring.

"Come on!" I groaned, smacking the soda machine. "Fucking thing…"

"Need some help?"

I spun around to find a short Latino boy with a friendly face and wide, open brown eyes watching me, an amused smile playing around his mouth.

"Probably…" I admitted reluctantly. I hated to confess when I needed help – it usually sent me on the defensive and I always closed up, but there was something about this boy that kept me from wanting to snap at him.

He smiled again, this time kindly. "That machine is always acting up." He marched right up to it and kicked it a couple of times. The next thing I knew, there was the welcoming sound of the soda bottle slipping through the chute, and I snatched it up as it rolled out.

"Thanks," I said to him. "You want something?" I held up my wallet, signaling that I would be happy to repay him with a soda, but he shook his head.

"I try to stay away from caffeine and sugar. I'm generally hyper enough as it is and I would drive more than a few people nuts if I suddenly ended up on a caffeine high," he laughed. "I'm Carlos, by the way."

"James," I said by way of introduction.

"You new here?"

"Yeah, I just moved here from Minnesota."

"Minnesota? For real? Isn't hockey, like, the state sport or whatever?"

I blinked. "I don't think we have state sports. But yeah, it's pretty popular back there."

"Dude, do you play?" Carlos asked eagerly, brown eyes lighting up with excitement.

"I used to. Not so much now."

He smirked. "Just wait until you meet the captain of the hockey team. He'll stalk you if he has to, but he's determined to put together a strong team this year. If he thinks there's a chance you're going to be good, then he'll force you to try out."

"Uh huh. I wish him the best of luck with that."

He shrugged. "Anyway, which way are you headed?"

"Towards the science wing. I have biology."

"With who?"

"M. Donavan."

"Sweet! Me too! Come on, I'll take you there!" With a sudden burst of energy, he grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall and out the door onto a stone walkway. Flowers and small plotted plants lined the path and the mid-morning California air tasted of sun and salt. I knew San Luca was pretty close to the ocean, only a couple of miles away, and if I strained my ears I could almost hear the crashing of waves against sand and rocks.

We reached a huge glass building with motion-sensor doors that slid open with a quiet hiss. Carlos led me down a hall to the biology lab. We slid through the door and I veered off towards a quiet table in the back. A lot of students had already arrived and they were milling around, laughing and shouting jokes across the room at each other. The mood in the room was considerably lighter than it had been in the calculus classroom, and I felt a twinge of something – regret? Nostalgia? A part of me was screaming to join in on the conversations and laughter, but I told myself firmly that I was happy where I was, away from the limelight, away from what my old English teacher would have deemed "childish antics". Another twinge shot through me and I closed my eyes, before twisting the cap of the Coke bottle off and taking a long sip.

Carlos plopped down next to me, setting his backpack on the long black table, and pulling out a pen and notebook.

I looked at him in surprise, trying to figure out why he had joined me. "Don't you have other people to hang out with in this class?" I asked.

"I have friends, but I have friends everywhere. You don't. You want me to introduce you to some of the people?"

From anyone else, it would have sounded like a presumptuous and obnoxious comment, like he thought I was a social reject, but Carlos sounded like he was genuinely trying to be friendly and helpful and welcoming, not like he thought I was a social pariah at all.

"Um…" I paused, tracing the logo on my Coke bottle. "If you want to…"

"Nah, don't worry about it, I get it. It's your first day here and you're probably already really overwhelmed. California's probably a lot different from Minnesota, huh?"

"Yeah," I nodded, relieved that I was off the hook for the time being. "Just the school is a huge change. In Minnesota, we generally only have one or two large buildings, we don't have a campus that's so spread out. That's going to take some getting used to."

"I bet." Carlos looked at me sympathetically. "So, why did you move here?"

Before I could open my mouth to even make an attempt at answering his question, the teacher walked into class. After introducing himself as Mr. Donovan and taking roll call, he passed out syllabuses for this semester and explained to us how the class was going to work before adding that we would be partnered with the other people at our table. It was a bit of a relief to hear that since it was just Carlos and me at our table, and that meant that I wasn't going to have to meet or deal with anyone new in this class.

"What does your schedule look like?" Carlos asked after the bell rang and we began packing up.

"Um…I have English next and then lunch. After that I have Spanish, Study Hall, and Drama."

"Rats. My next period is geometry. But I have lunch and Spanish. You're in Spanish IIII, right?"

I nodded. "My last year. Thank goodness."

Carlos laughed. "Tell me about it. I grew up speaking the language, it's the only reason why I took it – I figured it would be an easy A."

"Is it?"

"Nah. My dad's from Brazil and my mom is half Argentinean, though she grew up here, so the Spanish we speak is completely different from the Spanish that's taught here – it's Spain-Spanish, which I think is funny since we're pretty close to the Mexican border."

"Gotcha. That's the kind of Spanish they taught us at my old high school." I swung my backpack over my shoulders and we headed out together.

"You know where the humanities building is?" Carlos asked as we stepped out onto the stone path. I bit my lip, hating to admit that I had no idea where it was, which was pretty unfortunate since that was where my English class was being held. Luckily, he didn't wait for a response. "It's the building between this one and the math and computer building, which is the one we were just in."

"Thanks," I muttered and he gave me a bright smile.

"Not a problem!"

Once we reached the humanities building, we went our separate ways with Carlos continuing on down the path back to the math and computer building, and me walking inside. I found the right room and sat down, thinking about how much I hated feeling lost and helpless. I had never felt lost and helpless in my life, not even after my dad left and it was up to me to make sure that my mom remembered to eat. But living in a completely different town in a completely different state and going to a completely different school was something completely foreign and unfamiliar to me. And I hated it.

I took a seat in the English classroom and dug my phone out of my backpack, checking my messages. I perked up when I saw I had a new text. With trembling fingers I opened it, but my shoulders slumped slightly when my mom's name popped up. Disappointment crashed over me like a tidal wave crashing over a beach, but I forced it back. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up and craned my neck to find a pretty brunette girl sitting a row back and a couple of seats over, watching as she sucked on the end of her pen thoughtfully. Her notebook was spread open in front of her and an iPod was resting on it, earbuds trailing from her ears.

For a split second our eyes locked and I felt a spark of electricity shoot right up my spine as if I had just touched a car door on a dry winter day and was jolted by a shock. I held her gaze, refusing to blink, and she returned it. But then another girl sat down next to her and she quickly looked away, ripping her earbuds out of her ears and closing her notebook before stuffing it into her backpack. It was a strange movement, considering we were in an English classroom, but as I watched she replaced the first notebook with another one.

I turned away, looking at the text from my mom: " _How's school going? XOXO Mom._ "

I sighed, staring down at the text. The words sounded friendly but I couldn't stop myself from reading them in a cool, clipped tone. I knew her question had been asked out of more than just motherly concern, just like it would be asked again for another reason besides parental curiosity.

Nevertheless, I quickly replied to her: " _Not too bad._ " I sent the message and dropped my phone into my backpack, just as the teacher walked into the room.

"Good morning, class," she said cheerfully, setting her briefcase on her desk. "My name is Nancy Howe. I know some of you have already been in my other classes, but I see some new faces here. Those of you who have been in my classes before probably already know the drill, but for those of you who have never taken a class with me I'll give you a quick rundown. I'm going to call on each person and you're going to give me a brief synopsis about who you are or what you're interested in. For example, I'm a thirty-something year old mom with a loving husband, a degree in English and education from Western Washington University, and I enjoy bowling, reading romantic comedies, and drinking way too much coffee with way too much cream and sugar."

There was a flurry of laughter and she smiled, perching herself on her desk. "So, let's begin with the front row." She pointed at the boy on the far end of the front row and he began speaking.

Before long, she had gotten to the third row and it was my cue to introduce myself. Joy.

I looked up at Mrs. Howe as she walked over to me, giving me a friendly smile and my stomach churned as I flashed back to a situation much like this from almost exactly two years ago. Fighting back the nausea and memories that were simultaneously warring for my attention, I cleared my throat. "I'm James Diamond and I'm new here. I'm from Minnesota and I'm a senior. I've only lived here for a couple of weeks."

Mrs. Howe smiled at me. "Well, welcome to San Luca, James. I'm sure we're all very happy to have you here with us."

I managed to smile back, even as I resisted the urge to fold my arms on my desk and bury my face in them. Nostalgia and sadness was threatening to overwhelm me, but I knew once I got out of here I would be fine again. Well, as fine as I possibly could be.

Mrs. Howe moved on to the rest of the students. Before long, she reached the girl I had locked eyes with earlier.

"I'm Katie Knight," she said brightly, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. "I'm a junior and I know a bunch of you. I'm currently obsessed with The Mortal Instruments, and I take dance as an extracurricular activity. Oh, and my brother is Kendall Knight, the captain of the hockey team, so you should go and see him if you want to join the team. And yes, he's paying me in double chocolate chip cookies to advertise for him."

A smattering of laughter rippled through the classroom and Mrs. Howe chuckled. "That sounds like Kendall."

Katie rolled her eyes. "My darling older brother," she drawled, sarcasm dripping from her words, and I couldn't help it. I found myself liking her, wanting to know more about her. "Always making a positive impression on everyone."

"Always," Mrs. Howe laughed and moved onto the girl who had sat next to Katie.

"I'm Camille Roberts," she said cheerfully. "And I'm an actress – a method actress."

I let out a low whistle. I had done some acting when I was younger, performing in elementary, middle school, my first two years of high school, and church productions. From what I had heard, method actors and actresses were _extremely_ dedicated to their craft. They would have to be, in order to live the lives of their characters the way they did.

"I love old movies and old mystery books," Camille continued on. "And I love shopping a little more than I should." She finished up with a sheepish grin and Mrs. Howe chortled.

"As long as you're not getting yourself deep in debt, I think you'll be okay with the shopping," she assured Camille, before continuing on. Eventually the entire room had introduced themselves, and Mrs. Howe passed out a syllabus for the class, going over what we would be working on.

"Since this is an AP English class," she began, "I'm really hoping everyone will be able to handle the material in a…relatively mature way, since we'll be dealing with some advanced subject material that isn't taught in normal English classes. We'll be tackling Chaucer, Milton, Orwell, Wilde, and Lawrence. That's Geoffrey Chaucer, John Milton, George Orwell, Oscar Wilde, and D.H Lawrence."

I furrowed my brow, recognizing the last name, and before I could even second guess myself, I raised my hand.

She pointed at me. "James?"

"D.H Lawrence? The same D.H Lawrence who wrote _Lady Chatterley's Lover_?"

She smiled brightly. "The very same. You're familiar with _Lady Chatterley's Lover_?"

I felt heat creep up the back of my neck. "I…know the story," I said evasively.

"Very interesting. Well, we will be studying several of his works."

Class continued on, and eventually we were dismissed. I headed out, making my way to the cafeteria. It was surprisingly easy to find, considering how hard it had been to locate my classrooms.

The second I stepped into the cafeteria, I was flagged down by Carlos, who was sitting with two boys – one with dark brown hair and fair skin, and the dark blond one I had spotted in my calculus class. I got my food and headed over to them. Carlos grinned up at me. "How was English class?"

"Not bad," I replied, sitting down. "How was geometry?"

"Torturous," he said with an elaborate eye roll. "Anyway, this is Kendall Knight and Logan Mitchell." He pointed to the blond and the dark haired one respectively. "Kendall is the captain of the hockey team," Carlos added, eyes glittering.

Kendall took a bite of his pizza as he surveyed me. "Carlos tells me you played hockey back in Minnesota."

"For a little while," I corrected him, picking a piece of pepperoni off my own slice and popping it in my mouth.

"Define 'a little while'."

"From sixth grade through tenth."

"Why'd you stop?" Logan asked, eyeing me shrewdly as if waiting to see if I would lie or not.

I shrugged, settling on a half-truth. "I got hurt in the last game of the season when I was in tenth grade. I decided to take a break from it."

Logan narrowed his eyes at me, before turning his attention down to his chicken sandwich. "That's too bad," he said as he brought it up to his mouth.

"Yeah," Kendall said with a nod as I took a bite of my pizza. "Maybe you should give it a try again."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'm not trying out for the hockey team."

He chucked aside any pretense he had been hiding behind. "Why not?" he demanded. "You clearly enjoyed it. Why don't you want to go back?"

"I just don't."

"You should give it a try," he pressed. "Come on, please just try out. It'll only take an hour."

"Kendall – "

"You'll probably have a lot of fun. And if you completely suck, I won't put you on the team. It's pretty simple."

"And if I'm good?" I asked, a hint of challenge creeping into my voice. Because I knew I was good. That was something that wasn't even worth arguing about.

"Then you're going to be on the team. We need a strong side this year, our team sucked royally last year." He pounded his fist into the opposite palm. "And I'm not going to stand by and do shit. We're winning, even if I have to conscript people."

"Please don't," Carlos begged. "I think that might be illegal."

"First and foremost we need strong forwards. The left wing, the right wing, and the center." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Because we're lacking in that area. I'm a right wing, you're a left wing," he said to Logan, "and you're a goalie," he added to Carlos. "Jett Stetson is an asshole, but he's a pretty decent left defenseman. So that leaves a center and a right defenseman to find, not to mention other players so that we're not all playing straight through in one game. What position do you play?" he added to me.

"Center…"

"Excellent. I don't give a fuck if I have to kidnap you after your last class, you're going to be at tryouts tomorrow. They start at three-thirty, at the ice rink." He finished off his pizza, humming happily.

Logan rolled his eyes at me. "Don't worry. He always gets a little manic over hockey. If you join the team, you'll get used to it within a week."

I finished off my bottle of Coke. "Not a problem, I get it. I get like that over stuff."

"Like what?" Carlos asked, cutting off a piece of his burrito.

I shrugged. "It used to be hockey. Drama – theater."

"You're into theater?" Logan asked me as he picked up his bottle of Pepsi. "You should talk to Camille Roberts. She's really into drama and performing."

Carlos smirked. "Well, you would be the one to know, huh? What exactly happened between you and Camille this summer?"

Logan's cheeks flushed and his hands shook. "Like I'm going to tell you." He uncapped the soda bottle and yelped as the dark sugary liquid fizzed out like a miniature volcano. "Damn it!" He reached for a bunch of napkins and mopped his hand, the bottle, and the table off.

Kendall, Carlos, and I exchanged amused looks, fighting back the urge to burst out laughing.

Logan glowered at us in irritation. "Thanks for the help."

"It's your own fault," Kendall chortled, passing him another napkin. "You were the one shaking the bottle."

"Not intentionally!" Logan let out a grunt of disgust, before nodding towards a table across the room from us. "Hey, Kendall, your sister's staring over at us."

"Probably heard you yelling," Kendall chuckled, glancing in that direction. I did too and almost did a double take. It was Katie. A light bulb flicked on in my head and I realized that Katie was Kendall's younger sister. She had said it herself in English.

She realized she had been caught by both Kendall and me and she quickly spun around.

"Or else she was wondering if you had managed to force the new kid onto the hockey team," Logan retorted.

"She's in my English class," I said in an offhand voice.

"AP English?" Kendall asked and I nodded. "Gotcha. Yeah, it's a subject she's good at. Math, not so much, but she excels at reading and writing. Have you officially met her yet?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

"You want me to introduce her?"

"Nah, it's cool. I'll probably meet her on my own."

"More than likely."

We finished eating and balled our trash up, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. We headed out and I made my way to Spanish with the others. According to Carlos, it was the one class we all had together.

After Spanish, I made my way to the library for Study Hall with Logan, where I once more spotted Katie with a couple of her friends.

Logan and I took a quiet table in the back corner of the room and began to slog through the homework that had accumulated so far. Once the hour was up, we headed back out and I walked towards my locker so that I could drop my textbooks off at my locker and grab my drama one.

As I made my way towards my locker, I spotted a small figure with golden brown hair tumbling down her back, standing on her tip-toes as she struggled to push books up on the top shelf of her own locker.

Katie let out a squeal as the books tumbled out of her hands, crashing to the floor. "Damn it!" She dropped to her knees, tucking her hair behind her ear.

I hurried over to her, kneeling down beside her. "You okay?"

She glanced up at me, hesitating before nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just one of the perks of being short. It's always a pain in the ass, trying to get books up on the top shelf and trying to get books down." She threw a glare at the locker. I could see a familiar book lying on the upper shelf.

"You're taking drama?"

"Yeah," she replied. "With Ms. Finnegan."

"Next period?"

Another nod.

"I'm taking that one. Here," I added, scooping her books up and parading them over to her locker, sliding them onto the top shelf and getting her drama textbook for her. "Here you go." I presented it to her and she smiled a little.

"Thanks. So, you're new here?"

"Unfortunately." I blinked as I realized where I was. "Oh. You have the locker right next to mine." I walked over to mine and dialed the combination, opening it.

"How about that? Well, it's better than the girl who had the locker next to mine the last couple of years," Katie said with a shrug. "Her boyfriend would always stop by between classes and they'd end up making up against my locker. That was disgusting to watch."

I chuckled, placing my books in my locker and grabbing the one I was going to need. "So, any chance you could show me where the theater is?"

She smiled again. "Depends. Are you going to pay me?"

"I hear I make really good chocolate cupcakes."

A mischievous grin played around her mouth. "I'm going to hold you to it. I'm Katie, by the way."

"I know who you are, thanks to Mrs. Howe. I'm James," I added.

"Nice to meet you. Come on, the theater's this way." And with that she led me out of the building and down the path, towards a large building nestled between jacaranda trees, the entrance flanked with honeysuckle bushes. We climbed the stairs and pushed through the double doors. I followed her down a long hallway, the walls hung with pictures from previous years' productions. I spotted Camille Roberts in a couple of the photographs.

We walked into the arena and I paused, smiling slightly. It had been over a year since I had been inside a theater and I hadn't realized I had missed it until I had stepped into this one. The stage was huge with scrubbed wood and steps leading up to it. Rows and rows of black folding seats slowly climbed up, and balconies protruded from the wall like a bird's beak jutting out from its face. Deep red hangings were draped from the walls, matching the carpet.

Katie glanced at me, her lips twitching. "You like it?"

I nodded, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets. "Yeah, it's nice."

"That it is. Come on." We climbed the stairs, sliding into the third level row and sitting down. "Have you done any acting before?" she asked curiously as we settled in.

"Some," I replied. "You?"

"A little bit. Mostly in middle school. So, you're from Minnesota?"

I nodded.

"Where?"

"Excuse me?" I looked at her in surprise. I had been expecting her to ask me why I had moved out here.

"Where in Minnesota are you from?"

"The northern area. Sherwood. Have you heard of it?"

"No, but I'm not really familiar with northern Minnesota. I just know about the Mall of America."

I laughed. "Yeah, that one's pretty famous."

"How about instead of baking me cupcakes, you fly me to the mall."

"I'm not paying for a plane ticket. You're stuck with the cupcakes."

"Cheapskate."

"I have to be, considering how fucking expensive everything is out here. Almost two dollars for a bottle of Coke? That's outrageous."

She sniffed. "It's attitudes like that that lead to a life of crime."

"Yeah. One day I'm just sitting around, bitching about the price of soda, and the next I'm throwing bricks at windows and refusing to help old ladies across the street."

"And refusing to take me to the Mall of America."

"The horror. The absolute horror."

"Damn straight."

Drama went much like the other classes, with the teacher taking roll call and passing around a syllabus, going over the main points.

"So," Katie said once the bell had rung and we had been dismissed, "what're your plans for this afternoon?"

"Homework and unpacking." I made a face as we headed out of the theater. "Fun stuff."

"Yeah, sounds like it. How long ago did you move here?"

"Two weeks."

"Oh, wow. You really are new."

I nodded, fiddling with my backpack strap as a crazy, completely insane idea took over me. "Hey, I don't suppose you'd want to come over and help me unpack…I mean, it won't be any fun, but I could make you your cupcakes."

She opened her mouth, looking up at me. I could see in her eyes how much she wanted to say yes, and regret momentarily flashed across her face. "I can't," she said after a long pause. "I have dance. But could I get a rain check on that?"

"Yeah, definitely. Have fun at dance."

"Thanks, I'll do my best. I'll probably be really sore tomorrow, my muscles are going to be so overworked."

"Try Arnica Montana or Biofreeze or Icy Hot or something," I said, throwing out a few different things I had used when I had been playing hockey. We had reached our lockers by now and we opened them, beginning to pull out textbooks.

"I have Biofreeze and Icy Hot, courtesy of a hockey playing brother, so I'll see what I can do." She smiled at me again as she closed her locker. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Cool." We headed our separate ways and I let out a deep breath as I reached the parking lot, making my way to my car and thoughts of hockey, dance, and Katie's smile swirling around in my head.

* * *

 **So, there it is :) I know, I know, nothing exciting, but things'll get more interesting in future chapters.  
**

 **Anyway, if you enjoyed it, please review! I love hearing your feelings or opinions on the story! It helps me to further shape the story, and it's always nice to know that people like it so far. Have a good rest of your night, everyone :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : Yeah, I still don't own Big Time Rush, any of the novels mentioned in this chapter (though I have had to read a couple of them for school), and anything recognizable.**

 **debjohns24 : Thanks! Oh, I'm sure Logan and Camille were very...busy...over the summer ;P Thank you for taking the time to read and review! I really appreciate it.**

 **A/N : I actually meant to update this a couple weeks ago, but I got super caught up with work and job interviews. But here it is :) There are a few mentions of different novels in this, but those are just to illustrate what goes on in James' and Katie's English class.**

 **Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

 **James' POV**

"So, how was school today?" Mom asked me that evening. We were sitting at the kitchen table, in the middle of dinner. It had been pretty quiet between us and I was jerked abruptly out of my thoughts at her question.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked, how was school today? Did you make any friends? Do you think your classes are going to be good?"

"Oh." I poked at my lasagna. "Yeah, I made a few friends. And I think my classes are going to be okay for the most part. English seems interesting, and drama is probably going to be fun."

Mom stiffened slightly at the mention of English and I quickly forked some of the pasta into my mouth. "Well, that's good," she said when she had recovered.

"Yeah," I said in agreement, reaching for my glass and taking a sip of water. "And I'm going to try out for the hockey team tomorrow."

Her eyes lit up. "Are you really? That's wonderful, sweetie!"

I blinked, a little shocked at her enthusiasm. Most mothers wouldn't exactly be thrilled at the idea of their sons getting involved in a sport that involved hitting each other with hockey sticks and slamming into people. But then again, my mom wasn't most mothers, especially not now. Not after what had happened. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, I haven't gotten onto the team yet. I don't even know if I want to, but the captain really wants me to try out."

"That's good, right? That he's interested in getting you on the team?"

I shrugged. "I don't really know if I want to play."

"I don't know why not. You loved playing when you were younger."

"I got hurt."

"But it wasn't a major injury, just a sprained ankle. You broke your leg when you were twelve during a hockey game, and you couldn't wait to be healed enough to get back on the ice."

"Times change," I mumbled.

Mom pursed her lips. "Does this have anything to do with _her_?" She said _her_ like it was the filthiest, most disgusting word she could think of.

"No! It's just – "

"It's just what?"

I shook my head. "Forget it." I pushed my almost empty plate away. "I'm going to head up to my room. I'm tired."

"James – " she began, but I was already taking my plate to the sink, scraping what remained of my lasagna into the trashcan. Usually I didn't throw away perfectly good food. I was known to eat anything and everything in sight if I could. But right now, my stomach was churning, bubbling with anger and hurt and frustration. I rinsed my plate and fork off, placing them in the dishwasher, and marched out of the kitchen, stepping over boxes and cursing when my foot collided with a bag of books that Mom had yet to arrange on a bookshelf, mainly because we somehow hadn't managed to find the bookshelf yet.

I stumbled up the stairs and down the hall to my room, slamming the door behind me, breathing hard.

I hated this. I really, really did. As far as Mom was concerned, every little problem I had was about _her_. It never had anything to do with the fact that maybe I was just sick and tired of something. I mean, okay, part of the reason – a huge part, actually – I was shying away from hockey was because of my…whatever you wanted to call her. Ex girlfriend. Friend with benefits. I didn't even know. It wasn't like we had ever defined what we were.

I collapsed on my bed, reaching for my iPod, but before my fingers could brush against it, my gaze fell on my phone. I pushed myself into a sitting position, snatching my phone up. Without really thinking about it, I punched in the pass code to unlock the device and got into my text conversations. I spotted the conversation between Mom and me, and a brief one from my best friend back in Minnesota. T.J. My stomach clenched as I thought about him. I had only seen him once before I left, and it hadn't exactly been the happiest moment of my life. It had been a week or so before Mom and I had moved, so about three weeks ago.

It was funny in a way. As angry as I was with Mom for making me move out here, I knew it was my fault. She had insisted on moving halfway across the country so that I could get away from our small town, from the watching eyes, from the whispering lips, from the rumors and scandalized delight that had swept the town after word about what I had done had gotten out. It had gotten so bad that she had decided that it would just be easier for us to pack and move two thousand miles. She had been working as a manager at the local bank at the time, and she had been able to transfer to another bank out here, also working the same position. But she had uprooted her entire life for me, because of something I had done. But…as always when I reflected on how badly I had fucked up, I couldn't help but wonder if a huge part of my mom's motivation had been to get me away from _her_.

I grunted at the thought, getting out of the conversations on my phone. More than likely. It had been months since the shit had hit the fan, and she still couldn't meet my eyes, still couldn't talk to me without it sounding stiff. It was a reminder that because of what had happened, I really didn't have anyone. My old friends wanted nothing to do with me, and my own mother could barely stand to be around me. The only person who would be willing to listen had broken off contact with me.

At the thought of her, my chest seemed to clench, throbbing as if my heart was beating against my ribcage, fighting to get out.

Without further ado, I dialed the number that was so familiar to me and put my phone up to my ear, listening to the ringing on the other end.

Two rings…three…four…and then the phone went to voicemail. "Hey, it's Charissa! Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can!"

There was an urgent beep, and I quickly began speaking, "Hey, Charissa, it's me. James. I was just…just thinking about you." I swallowed hard. "I miss you." I got to my feet, beginning to pace my room restlessly. "I still love you. I know what you said, but…I love you, and that's the truth. Just…call me or something. Okay? Please?" I hung up and tossed my phone on my bed, tumbling down on it with an arm thrown over my eyes. Great. Calling my…whatever the hell she was…and leaving a pleading voicemail. Yeah, I was totally sane. I definitely had it together. Fucking hell.

So I did what I always did whenever I needed to tune out the world around me. I snatched up my iPod and slipped the earbuds in, blasting rock music until I couldn't hear myself think.

I must have somehow fallen asleep at some point, because when I opened my eyes next sunlight was streaming in through the windows and my iPod was off. I plucked the earbuds out of my ears and sat up, rubbing my eyes groggily before checking the time. It was after six, which meant that it was just about time to get up. I pushed myself to my feet and checked my phone hopefully for a text or a missed call. Charissa was two hours ahead at me, and I knew that she would have been up, getting ready to go into school at least three hours ago. However, all that flashed across my phone's screen was the time, and I let out a sigh, wondering if I really could have expected Charissa to reply to me.

I began going through my morning routine, brushing my teeth and showering before getting dressed. I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs to the kitchen. My mom was bustling around the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. I got one for myself, not saying anything to her, though that didn't really have anything to do with our argument the night before. I just simply wasn't a normal person and it was kind of pointless to try to talk to me before I had finished my first cup of coffee.

She wordlessly passed me the cereal and I fixed myself a bowl, sitting down at the table and eyeing the boxes that had yet to be unpacked. The house looked more like a storage shed than a place to live. Hopefully we'd be able to get more stuff unpacked this weekend. And hopefully I would eventually stop feeling as though I was living in a stranger's house, rather than my own, because this place didn't feel like home, and I was wondering if it ever would.

Once I had finished my breakfast and coffee, I wordlessly kissed Mom's cheek and walked out the front door, backpack thrown over my shoulder and car keys in hand.

Fifteen minutes later I was striding down the school hall towards my locker. I could see Katie at the locker next to mine, this time standing on a fold-up step stool so that she could pull her books down without getting a concussion. I smiled and headed over to her. I stopped in front of my own locker and got into it.

"Taking extra precautions?" I asked her.

She looked at me, still a few inches shorter than me even while still standing on the stool. "Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, okay?"

I chuckled, pulling out the books I would need. "How was dance yesterday?"

"Lots of fun, but just like I thought, I'm sore as hell. That's what I get for making walking from my TV to my fridge my main form of exercise this summer."

"Sounds like a peaceful summer to me." I closed my locker door and leaned against it, looking at her. She really was pretty. Her long brown hair looked so soft and thick as a strand brushed against her cheek, and her eyes were lined softly with purple eyeliner. She wore a denim skirt, a plaid button up shirt with the sleeves buttoned at the tops of her wrists and the shirt tail tied to her navel, revealing a white tank top. On her feet were black Converse. It was such a simple outfit and she looked so young, but adorable at the same time.

"It was pretty boring." She pushed her hair behind her ear, revealing piercings up and down her lobe. I smiled a little, liking the slight edginess. "So, what'd you do this summer?"

"Moved here."

"Besides that. You said you've only been here for two weeks. So, what else did you do?"

I shrugged. "Oh, you know…"

"With specifics like that, how can I not?"

"I really didn't do very much. I pretty much just stayed home."

"Really." She didn't look like she believed me. "You didn't want to tell me that you did the same thing as me?"

I shrugged again.

"Aren't you a mystery?"

"I like to think so."

Katie shook her head. "If you keep talking like that, people are going to think you're hiding something."

I was hiding something. That was the problem. "Maybe I just don't want to be here."

"Here at school or in California?" she asked shrewdly.

"Both."

She tilted her head up, looking me square in the eyes. "Do you have a girlfriend back in Minnesota?"

I blinked at her. "W-what?"

"Do. You. Have. A. Girlfriend? In Minnesota?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"It might. You're hot. A lot of girls in this school are going to be after you."

"Any particular girls?"

She shrugged. "There are some real man eaters here."

"Would you be among them?"

"I'm not a man eater."

"But you just said I'm hot. So, would you happen to be one of the girls after me?"

"Honey, I can't give away all my secrets."

I quirked an eyebrow. "But you still want to know if I'm available?"

She shrugged. "I have a personal interest in the matter."

"Because you're after me."

"Or maybe because pretty much all of my friends want you."

"They don't know me."

"I don't really know you, either," she pointed out.

"You've never heard of love at first sight?"

"I think you mean lust at first sight," she quipped back. I had been moving closer to her. We were now nose-to-nose, our eyes locked. I could smell her body mist. I could see the tiny freckle at the corner of her lip. I was deftly aware of her body, mere centimeters from mine. If one of us moved just a half step closer, her chest would be against my chest. I could reach out and grab her hips. Or lift her up. Back her into the lockers. Kiss her until we were both breathless.

"You don't believe in love at first sight?" I asked.

"Do you?" she retorted.

"Not really."

"So I was right. Lust at first sight."

"Are you opposed to it?"

"I'm more opposed to the fact that we're having this conversation in the middle of the hallway at school."

Her words jolted me out of my trance. I blinked, looked around, realized she was right, and immediately backed up a few paces. Katie hopped off her stool and folded it up, before placing it in her locker. She shut the door and turned to face me. "Give me your phone."

"Say please."

"I'm putting my number in your phone."

"I – okay – " I handed her my phone and she punched in her phone number, before smiling cheerfully up at me.

"Text me, okay? I'll see you in English." And then she sauntered off, my eyes following her ass and hips as she walked away.

As I began making my way to homeroom, I reflected on everything that had just happened. I had just flirted – pretty outrageously – with a gorgeous sixteen year old girl. She had put her number in my phone and wanted me to text her. And for the first time since I was fifteen, I actually felt like a somewhat normal teenager. Not someone who had fucked up so badly his mom couldn't even look at him. Not someone who had gotten so tangled up in a love triangle that he couldn't even listen to a love song without wanting to throw up. Not someone who had moved halfway across the country to get away from such a toxic situation. While I had been flirting with Katie, it was like that person had never existed. And if he did exist, it didn't matter. Because that was part of my past. Because I liked Katie. A lot. I didn't know her that well, but, I realized as I sat down at the desk I had sat at the day before in homeroom, I was looking forward to becoming friends with her, and maybe becoming more than that.

My only problem with the idea of dating her was the subject of my past. I was going to have to tell her sooner or later. And I doubted she would be happy. She might not want anything to do with me after that.

I met up with Carlos in biology. Or rather, Carlos met up with me. I had just sent my first text to Katie – " _Hey, it's James. This is me texting you just like you asked ;)_ " – when he slid into the seat next to me.

He peered at my phone screen without even saying hi. "Oooh, I see a winky face. Who's the chick?"

"Oh, um…" I bit my lip, wondering how he would react to the news that I was flirting with his best friend's sister. "Katie…"

"Knight?"

I nodded.

"Cool. She's cute. Not my type, but yeah. But you should know, a lot of guys like her."

"I'm not surprised. She's gorgeous."

"Did she give you her number?"

I nodded.

He grinned. "I thought she was interested in you. She was staring at you yesterday in the cafeteria, after all. You think anything's going to happen?"

"I have no clue. I just met her yesterday."

"But you like her, right?"

"So far, yeah."

"So, ask her out."

"I can't do that! Don't you think we should get to know each other first?"

"Oh. Yeah. Probably. You guys should probably try to be friends first. When you don't know each other and you jump into something, that's when everything gets fucked up."

I raised an eyebrow. "Speaking from experience?"

"Me? Nah. I can't get a date to save my life. But I've watched it happen with Kendall and Logan. Things just get screwed up."

I nodded, thinking about my – whatever-the-hell-it was. "I know how that goes."

"Oh yeah? Past experience?"

"Something like that…" My phone vibrated and I grinned when I saw Katie had replied to me. I opened the text: " _Now all I have to do is teach you how to walk and chew gum at the same time ;P Btw, Kendall said you're trying out for hockey today? That true?_ "

"Katie?" Carlos asked knowingly.

"Yep." I replied: " _As a matter of fact, I am. Do you have dance or can you come play cheerleader for me?_ "

Before she could reply, the bell rang and Mr. Donovan called the class to order. I dropped my phone into my backpack and didn't check it all through class. This school had a serious no-phone-usage-during-class rule, and with my mom's and my relationship already so strained, I didn't want to push it any further by texting a girl I had only known for twenty-four hours and getting myself expelled.

Eventually class ended and Carlos wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. "Man, that was some intense stuff."

I chuckled. "Not a big fan of science?"

"Not really. That's more Logan's thing, you know?"

I nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I'm not really a science person, either. I've always preferred more…physical…activities."

"Whoa. Keep it in your pants, dude."

I shoved him as we walked out of the classroom and into the hall. "Not what I meant! I just meant, like, hockey and acting, you know? Stuff you do with your body."

"As opposed to your brain?"

"Hey, both take quite a bit of brain power if you're going to succeed at either."

"True. With hockey it's calculating what the other team is going to do in advance, figuring out what your best plan of attack is, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

I nodded in agreement. "Exactly."

We pushed through the doors and stepped out into the bright sunshine. We headed our separate ways, with me making my way to the humanities building. Once I reached the English classroom I plopped down in my chair. A moment later, I caught a whiff of Katie's body mist, and she plunked herself down in the seat next to mine, golden brown hair everywhere before she caught it up in a hair tie. "As a matter of fact," she said, stretching her legs out in front of her, "I don't have dance today, so I can come and be your own personal cheerleader."

It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about. And then I grinned at her. "Sweet. Do you have one of those little skirts and cropped tops?"

"Sorry, you're stuck with what I'm wearing." She crossed her legs under her desk.

I chewed on my bottom lip, pretending to think it over. "I guess I can live with that…"

"Would it make you feel better if I flashed you?"

"I'd be the happiest guy in the world."

She laughed and reached over, patting my leg. "Which reminds me, since I don't have dance on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I can come over on Thursday to help you unpack and eat those cupcakes. If the offer still stands, I mean. And depending on what time hockey practice ends."

"That's assuming I make it onto the team," I pointed out. "And the offer definitely still stands."

She smiled. "Cool."

Mrs. Howe began the lesson just then, and Katie's and my conversation was cut short.

Today in English, Mrs. Howe lectured about George Orwell's two most well-known novels, _Animal Farm_ and _1984_. "They were both political novels," she spoke as she walked around the classroom. "With messages about an all-knowing, all-controlling government. _Animal Farm_ is about communism. _1984_ is about the next step up – communism with advanced technology, which could perhaps translate to totalitarianism. Can anyone define totalitarianism for me?"

I raised my hand, and Mrs. Howe pointed at me. "James?"

"It could be defined as a government that has total control."

"Can you give an example?"

I gave her a sheepish look. "In _Firefly_ – you know, the science fiction TV show from the early 2000s – the government was totalitarian, which was the main source of the problem for the lead protagonists."

"An unorthodox example, but I like your reference to pop culture, and it is also correct." She propped herself on the edge of her desk, and I was once more taken back to two years ago, to my English classroom in Sherwood High…

Mrs. Howe continued on, knocking me straight out of my mini flashback. "Your assignment for tonight is to read the first chapter for both novels and write a short paper combining your responses to the context of both chapters. The paper shouldn't be more than a page long, double spaced in size twelve print, please. I expect your answers to be eloquent, grammatically correct, and if you don't know how to spell a word, for heaven's sake, use spell check. That's what it's for, people! Your response is due tomorrow morning at the beginning of class. If you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me. My e-mail is on the last page of the syllabus." The bell rang, and she smiled. "Class is dismissed. Have a wonderful rest of your day."

"She's actually kind of cool," Katie told me as we stuffed our notebooks and pens into our backpacks. "I like how she talks to us like she expects us to understand what she's telling us about. My English teacher last year was a total dick. He acted like we couldn't even read, much less understand novels like _Animal Farm_."

"Have you read it?"

"I read _1984_ over the summer, because my mom insisted it was a classic." She gave me a sheepish look. "I only really remember the sex scenes, and that it had a crappy ending."

I laughed, leading her out of the classroom. "Orwell wasn't exactly known for his happy endings. He had something to say about the society."

"So I've heard. How come classic writers never write happy stuff?"

"Because then no one would take them seriously."

"Ugh. I bet _Lady Chatterley's Lover_ didn't end well, either."

"As a matter of fact, it didn't," I replied, pushing into the cafeteria.

She gave me a curious look, but broke off when she spotted her friends. They were sitting a few tables away from Kendall, Logan, and Carlos, laughing and chatting away.

Katie turned to me. "I'll see you in drama, okay?"

"Yeah, see you then."

We went our separate ways and I settled down into the designated chair next to Kendall once I had gotten my lunch – a couple slices of pepperoni pizza and a bottle of Coke.

"Ready for hockey tryouts after school?" Kendall asked me cheerfully once I had taken my first bite.

"I guess. I still think you're crazy, though."

"Just determined. I have a good feeling about you. You're going to be gold."

"You can't know that for sure," I reminded him.

"Not until three-o-clock this afternoon," he grinned. "And my sister likes you, so that says a lot. She's usually a little more cautious when it comes to people – especially guys."

"Oh," was all I could think to say. I focused on my food instead, relieved when the conversation switched to something that had happened in Logan's advanced physics class. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Katie with her older brother. I just wasn't sure if that had to do with my past, or if it had to do with the fact that when she had texted me back for the first time, I had actually been relieved it was her, not Charissa. I couldn't remember a time when I hadn't been waiting on a text or a call from Charissa. I just hoped I wasn't replacing one girl with another. Because there was no way in hell that would end well.

As promised, I met up with Katie in drama class. The rest of my day went by quickly, and the next thing I knew it was time to head to the hockey rink for tryouts. I stopped by the boys' locker room to change into my hockey gear before continuing onto the rink. As I ambled towards the benches just outside the rink where the hopefuls were waiting, I heard a chant echoing through the rink: "Ra-ra, sis boom ba – GO JAMES!"

My head snapped up to find Katie and Camille a few bleachers above me. Katie was wearing an over-sized sweatshirt, and her legs were now sheathed in leggings under her skirt. She was waving around pom-poms. Where she had managed to find pom-poms was beyond me. But as I waved at her and she grinned down at me, clearly enjoying herself, I suddenly couldn't remember why I was dreading my tryout so much. I could play hockey. Scratch that – I could kick ass at playing hockey. So what did it matter if someone from my past had wanted me to quit because she thought it was juvenile? All that was important was Katie cheering for me.

I plopped down on the bench, just as tryouts began. I was one of the first to be called up.

The tryout was way too easy. It involved chasing a puck around orange cones and putting said puck past the goalie. My tryout was over in five minutes, and the entire time Katie and Camille cheered for me, Katie's voice ringing louder and clearer than Camille's.

As I settled back on the bench, one of the guys on my left said to the guy next to him, "I wouldn't mind having Katie Knight as a cheerleader."

The second guy replied, "I wouldn't mind having Katie Knight do _anything_ for me."

I glared at them. "I wouldn't mind having you two dumbasses shut up."

They scowled back but kept their mouths shut after that.

Yeah, Carlos was right. Katie was definitely popular with guys. And yet, she seemed to like me. And I had no idea what made me so special.

Eventually the last guy had had his tryout, and Kendall announced the new players. And I was one of them, set to play forward.

Katie cheered louder still, and she came barreling down the steps, beaming at me. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks." I couldn't help smiling back and feeling just the tiniest bit excited myself. It wasn't like I wanted to be on the team. But I had to admit, being back on the ice, playing hockey, if only for a few minutes had felt amazing.

Maybe…just maybe…this year wouldn't be such a bust after all.

* * *

 **So that's the second chapter. I hope you guys liked it :) And if you did, please review! I love hearing what you guys think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer : I still don't own anything recognizable, including BTR. Damn it!**

 **ranicious** : **Thank you so much! I'm sorry for the wait for the update, but I hope you enjoy this :) And thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Dallys1Fan : Yeah, I'm not e-mailing you the plot. Nice try, though ;P And thank you for taking the time to read and review!  
**

 **Thank you for the reviews and alerts! They always make my day!**

 **A/N : I'm sorry for the wait! I actually had the chapter written, I just didn't have any time to post it. We had inventory at the store I work at, and I've been swamped with school. But hopefully you guys will like this chapter :)**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 **James' POV**

"So, how were hockey tryouts?"

That was the first thing my mom asked me as we sat down to dinner. The rest of my afternoon had been uneventful. Kendall had informed me that hockey practice would begin the following Monday at 3:15, sharp. Katie had hugged me quickly before pulling back, beaming up at me (that might have been my favorite part of the whole ordeal, in all honesty). Carlos and Logan had fist bumped me. Afterwards I had come home, done some homework, and unpacked a little. My mom had gotten home around 6:30 with takeout from a local Chinese restaurant.

I looked across the table at her as I took a bite of Mongolian beef. "They went well. I made it onto the team as a forward."

Mom beamed, almost meeting my eyes. "Congratulations, sweetie."

"Thanks. The tryouts were easy. And I think it helped that I'm already friendly with the captain and his two best friends."

"Still. I'm sure you were chosen for your talent and skill. I'm so proud of you. Don't you feel better, now that you're getting some structure back into your life?"

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, Mom. A lot better."

"Don't roll your eyes at me, young man. It's my job to worry about you. Especially after what happened last year – " She broke off, and an awkward silence descended over the table.

"Last year was last year," I said after a long pause. "And we're halfway across the country. Things are different."

"I hope so. You're broken off contact with _her_ , right?"

I shifted slightly guiltily in my seat, thinking about the phone call I had made the night before. "I haven't talked to her, no."

"Good. You need to forget about her. She wasn't good for you, and you know it. It's why you almost got arrested."

"But I didn't!" I broke out. "I didn't get arrested. Anyway, I told you, it was an accident."

Mom rolled her eyes and spooned some more fried rice on her plate. "Fine. Whatever you say, James."

I gritted my teeth, but forced myself to sit through the rest of dinner.

Once the leftovers had been put away and the used plates and forks were in the dishwasher, I headed up to my room. I plugged into my iPod and reached for my phone automatically, checking to see if anyone had texted me.

Katie had. " _I'm reading '1984' and getting more depressed by the sentence._ "

I laughed and texted her back, " _But it's a classic!_ "

" _Why can't books like 'Harry Potter' and 'The Mortal Instruments' be considered classics?_ "

" _Because they're too new._ "

" _Sure. What're you up to?_ "

For a split second I was tempted to text back something really cool, like landing a fighter jet or sneaking into a Russian diplomat's mansion, but somehow I doubted she would believe either story. So I went with the truth. Which was about as boring as they come. " _Just listening to my iPod. You?_ "

And to think, I actually wanted her to like me…

" _Same. Sorta. Listening to iTunes and doing research on The Civil War for my U.S History class. Hey, do you have an IM account?_ "

I blinked. What the hell did she want with my instant messenger account? " _Um, yeah. Why?_ "

" _I just figured it'd be easier for us to talk online then through text. But it's up to you. :)_ "

Ohhhh. She wanted to talk to me more. Duh. Yeah, I was a smart one. We exchanged our IM names, and I grabbed my laptop, propping it on my lap and logging into my account. I could see a list of my IM "friends", all people from back home in Minnesota. There was T.J, Brian, Evan, Thomas, Carly, Melissa, and Charissa. Evan and Carly were both online, but I already knew neither of them would make an effort to talk to me. I had pretty much gone MIA on them last year, and T.J and Brian were the only ones who had tried to stick around. But even they were pretty much acting like I didn't exist now. Not that I blamed them. I had been an absolute asshole.

A moment later, a notification popped up on my screen: _You have a chat invitation from KatieKat16_. I hit accept, and a moment later an IM chat box popped up on my screen.

 _KatieKat16: Heeey :)_

 _JamesDiamond: Hey :)_

Well, we were off to a great start.

 _KatieKat16: Really? Your user name is your name? That's no fun :(_

I chuckled again.

 _JamesDiamond: I figured it was classic. I couldn't go wrong with using my name._

 _KatieKat16: Well, what's your middle name? Maybe you could use that._

 _JamesDiamond: David._

 _KatieKat16: James David Diamond…I like it. But yeah, not a lot of stuff for IM user names…What about JDDiamond?_

 _JamesDiamond: I think I'll pass :P_

 _KatieKat16: If you want to stick with a boring user name…_

 _JamesDiamond: Where does YOUR user name come from?_

 _KatieKat16: Like kitty cat, only, ya know, it's my name. And then my age. Also, I love kit-kats, so there's that, too._

 _JamesDiamond: Cool :)_

 _JamesDiamond: How long have you been dancing?_

 _KatieKat16: :D Since I was about ten. It's when Kendall started hockey as well. My parents were both working full time and they didn't want to just stick us in daycare, especially since we were almost old enough to take care of ourselves for a few hours. So they signed Kendall up for hockey and they signed me up for dance. Luckily both stuck, and the rest is history :)_

 _JamesDiamond: Do you compete?_

 _KatieKat16: Yep! I've won a few dance competitions. If you ever come over to my house I'll show you my trophies._

 _JamesDiamond: I'd like that :)_

 _KatieKat16: :)_

 _KatieKat16: So, tell me more about your life in MN, Mr. Mysterious. All I really know about you is that you're really good at hockey and English._

 _JamesDiamond: Honestly, there's not much to tell._

 _KatieKat16: Bullshit. You had a life before you showed up at San Luca High._

 _JamesDiamond: I mean, it was pretty normal. Ya know, school, hockey, friends, girls, the usual._

 _KatieKat16: And your family?_

 _JamesDiamond: I'm an only child, and my parents are divorced. My dad still lives in MN, but I live with my mom._

 _KatieKat16: Do you like living with her?_

 _JamesDiamond: I mean, it's okay. It'd be nice to have another guy around the house sometimes, though._

 _KatieKat16: I'm sure. Are you close with your dad?_

 _JamesDiamond: I was when I was younger. Now I'm not really close with anyone…_

 _KatieKat16: Why not?_

 _JamesDiamond: Just grew apart with everyone._

 _KatieKat16: Oh._

I bit my lip as an overwhelming urge to tell her everything that had happened since I was fifteen draped over me like a quilt. But I couldn't. I didn't want her to think less of me. And if she knew, she probably wouldn't be interested in me anymore…I couldn't risk it. I just couldn't. So I changed the subject.

* * *

 **Katie's POV**

 _JamesDiamond: Yeah. So, what kind of music do you listen to?_

I raised an eyebrow at the abrupt change of subject. I had Camille on the phone, on speaker so I could use both hands to type.

"I'm hearing silence," Camille commented. "He changed the subject, didn't he?"

"Yep. He _really_ doesn't like talking about his life in Minnesota."

"Maybe he's just a _really_ private person."

"He must be. I mean, he just said he's not really close to anyone, and that they just grew apart. And I have yet to hear him mention his friends back in Minnesota."

"That's kind of weird, don't you think? I mean, he's a seventeen year old guy. He seems reasonably nice and friendly and funny, and he's really good looking."

"He just won't go into details about living in Minnesota." I began typing again.

 _KatieKat16: A lot of different stuff. Pop, rock, country. I'm kinda all over the map ;P How about you?_

I stared at the _JamesDiamond is typing…_ message at the bottom of the chat window. "Do you think maybe he was arrested or something?"

"Or maybe he just had a really traumatizing childhood," Camille suggested. "Maybe, like, his dad beat him and his mom. Or his dad's part of the Russian mafia."

"Or maybe he and his mom are part of the Russian mafia," I retorted. "Goodness knows he's secretive enough."

"Does the fact that he's all mysterious stop you from liking him?"

"I wish. All it does is make me want to know more. Isn't that stupid? He's so fucking secretive, he could've killed someone and I wouldn't know, and all I can think about is – "

"What?" Camille sounded like she was smirking. "Dating him? Fucking him?"

"He's hot," I whined. "And he has those eyes…and that smile…I bet he had girls dropping their panties for him back in Minnesota."

"Or maybe he's a virgin. He seems soooo nice. You know the nice ones are always the ones who get laid last."

"I don't know…There's something about him that makes me think he's had sex before…"

"Again, is that going to put you off doing him?"

"Will you shut up? And no. At least, I don't think so."

There was a _ping_ and James' message popped up. _JamesDiamond: Mostly rock. Classic, hard, heavy metal, punk, I love it. Favorite bands?_

"You don't think so?" Camille responded. "So, there might be a chance that you're going to decide you only want to date virgins?"

"No! It's just, he has a past, you know. He has a history. Maybe that history comes with a busty blonde model who happens to be incredible at sex. I'm a virgin. I can't compete with that!"

"I don't think he wants you to compete with that! Come on, I've barely seen you two together, but from what I can tell, when you guys are together, you only have eyes for each other. So stop freaking out. What're you guys talking about now?"

"Music. He just asked me what my favorite bands are." I responded to James. _KatieKat16: Halestorm, Simple Plan, 5 Seconds of Summer, All Time Low, Three Days Grace, the list goes on for awhile. You?_

"Anyway, like I said, maybe he's just a super private person," Camille continued on. "You won't know until you get to know him better. And for the record, I just Googled his name. All I got was his Facebook page, and some stuff about him at Sherwood High School. He was on the SHS hockey roster until his junior year. The roster is open to the public."

"Interesting. I wonder why he quit. Maybe an injury?"

"Probably. Isn't that what usually happens?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Oh," she added, "there's some SHS newspaper articles about plays he was in. Seems like he got the lead in the school play on a regular basis. But nothing past his sophomore year."

"So something must have happened in his junior year of high school," I suggested, getting into Google and typing _James Diamond_ into the search bar. Sure enough, the results Camille had mentioned popped up. I clicked on review about _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. He had played Lysander, and the article praised his performance. There was another article, a little earlier, about him playing Romeo in – can you guess it? – _Romeo and Juliet_. He was also in _West Side Story_ , _Guys and Dolls_ , and _Sense and Sensibility_. Dude seemed to have talent. That was shown when other articles popped up about him scoring the winning goal in a hockey game. But none of these articles were recent. They were at least a year and a half old.

"Maybe something happened between his sophomore and junior year, like in the summer," Camille replied. "You said his parents divorced. Maybe that was when his dad walked out on them."

"Maybe."

James' response popped up. _JamesDiamond: Haha nice! I love Halestorm, Simple Plan, and Three Days Grace. I'm addicted to All Time Low's song 'Coffee Shop Soundtrack' – to me it's really personal. I also listen to a lot of Red, Skillet, Cheap Trick, and Avenged Sevenfold._

My eyebrows skyrocketed. Something nagged at me about his response, something that felt like a hint, but Camille had started yammering about something that Logan had sent her on Facebook, so I didn't follow that line of thought. I hung up with Camille soon after, but James and I continued to IM, until finally I couldn't stifle my yawns any longer.

 _KatieKat16: I hate to do this, but I have to go to bed :\ I'm absolutely exhausted haha. But I'll talk to you tomorrow :)_

 _JamesDiamond: Definitely. :)_

We both logged up and I began to get ready for bed, changing into my pajamas, brushing my teeth, and washing my face, before crawling between the sheets. He was a mystery, such a mystery. But there was something about him that kept drawing me in…I fell asleep thinking about James, and inevitably he webbed his way into my dreams.

I had never really dreamt about boys too much. Camille and Stephanie were both infamous for their hotter-than-hell sex dreams, but boys never seemed to pop into my dreams too much. But clearly James was the exception. And clearly my dreams were making up for the lack of hotness in them, because this particular dream went all out.

I woke up, panting, gasping, sweating, and thinking that I really needed a cold shower. I sat up, pushing my sopping, matted hair out of my face and worked on untangling myself from my sheets.

My bedroom door burst open and my mom dashed inside, looking at me worriedly. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

I blinked up at her as I reached for the bottle of water I kept on my nightstand. I unscrewed the lid and took a long, deep sip. "Yeah, why?"

"I could hear you making noises in your sleep…loud ones…Like you were screaming. I thought maybe you were having a nightmare."

Oh. My. God. My mom had heard me having a sex dream. And she thought it was a nightmare.

I could feel my cheeks heating up, and I avoided her eyes. "I don't – I don't really remember."

There was a long pause, and then she said, "Well, your alarm is probably going to be going off within the next five minutes, so you might as well get up and get a head start on your brother."

I nodded and she left my room, closing the door behind her. I shut off my alarm clock and climbed out of bed, equal parts embarrassed and turned on. Those two emotions did _not_ mesh, I decided as I headed for the bathroom I shared with Kendall. I got ready for the day and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I was never hungry in the morning, but when I didn't eat I ended up having dizzy spells, so I usually made myself a protein shake to take with me to school. And this morning was no different, despite the fact that I couldn't seem to shake the dream.

But I went about my routine, same as usual, since both my parents were in the kitchen. My dad was brewing coffee and scrambling eggs, and my mom was packing lunches for all four of us. My parents shouted over the noise of the blender and the coffeemaker, and I couldn't help smiling. Most of my friends' parents were divorced. But Mom and Dad loved each other so much, it was so obvious. And they always took the time to help Kendall and me out when we needed it.

I shut the blender off and grabbed the thermos I had dedicated to smoothies and protein shakes. I poured the shake in and screwed the lid on, before rinsing out the blender. I was just putting the blender away when Kendall walked into the kitchen.

"Where'd you get the pom-poms?"

I stared at him, completely befuddled. What the hell – "Excuse me?"

"Where did you get the pom-poms?" he repeated. "From yesterday? At the hockey tryouts? When you and Cami were playing Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders for James?"

"Excuse me?!" Dad roared, staring at me, then at Kendall, then back at me. "Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders? Pom-poms? James?"

"You remember, James is the new guy on the hockey team," Kendall reminded him. He had mentioned James at dinner the night before. "And Katie and Camille decided to play cheerleader for him, since they think he's hot."

I blushed. "He asked me to come and cheer him on."

"You brought pom-poms."

"I found them in this huge bin in the gym."

"So, who exactly is James?" Mom wanted to know as she finished making sandwiches.

"He's new at school," I explained. "He's a senior and a really good hockey player. We have a couple of classes together – AP English and drama."

"And Katie thinks he's haaaaawt," Kendall drew the word out, smirking at me as he sat down to a plateful of scrambled eggs.

"He's okay…" I said doggedly.

"Please. You two were making googly eyes at each other in the rink. And Jordan Miller said you two were flirting in the hall before school yesterday."

"Jordan Miller is a big mouth," I snapped. "And he needs to mind his own freaking business. I'm allowed to flirt with guys if I want to."

"Sure you are, baby sis," Kendall's smirk widened.

"No you're not," Dad interrupted. "I thought we agreed after the whole Jett Stetson debacle that you had sworn off boys until you turn forty?"

I made a face. I had gone out with Jett Stetson, AKA the biggest narcissist in southern California, a handful of times to get back at my ex, Dak Zevon, after he dumped me for a slut who would put out when I wouldn't. Biggest mistake of my life. Ugh.

"No, you agreed. I didn't say anything. And James isn't Jett Stetson."

"It's true," Kendall agreed. "I actually like James. He's really cool. And unfortunately he seems to be into Katie."

"So, when do we get to meet him?" Mom wanted to know.

My eyes widened. "Wait – you want to – meet him…?"

"Uh, yeah. If you and Kendall are both going to be spending time with him – "

"That makes it sound like we're both going to be dating him!" Kendall interrupted. "Don't phrase it like that!"

I cracked up. "Your couple name could be Kames."

"Oh my God, shut up."

"You two would be adorable together. I mean, you're kinda tall-ish, and he is tall. And you're blond and he has dark hair. You'd totally win Cutest Couple for the yearbooks."

"Which reminds me, he's too tall for you. He's, like, 6'2."

"What's your point?"

"You're 5'1."

"So?"

"He's over a foot taller than you."

"What's your point?"

"He'd have to bend over to kiss you. And how would you two even have sex?"

There was a sudden uproar as Dad spat out the sip of coffee he had just taken, and Mom hollered, "Time for school! Go! Now!"

Kendall and I grabbed our lunches, my shake, our coats, and backpacks, and hustled out the front door.

"I think we just got kicked out," Kendall told me.

"That would be because you're a dumbass," I informed him, stomping towards my car. "What's all this shit about James and me not being able to have sex because of the height difference?"

"Well, think about it. Wouldn't it be kind of awkward?"

"Do _you_ really want to think about it?"

He paused for a moment before gagging. "Fuck, you're right. I'm going to need therapy now."

I rolled my eyes and climbed into the front seat of my car. "Dumbass."

I pulled up in front of the school ten minutes later and climbed out, heading up to the front doors. Camille caught up with me as I was pushing into the hall. "Hey. Did you find out anymore about James?"

"Just that he looks really good naked."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, when did you two sleep together?!"

"Last night."

"You lost your v-card to him?!" she shrieked.

"Ssshhh! No! I mean, I dreamed about him. _Really_ dreamed about him."

"No way." She grinned. "You had a sex dream about him?"

"Don't spread it around," I gritted out.

"You don't want James to know you want him in your bed?"

"Not particularly."

"Then how are you ever going to get him in your bed?"

"I thought I'd resort to plotting and scheming," I deadpanned.

"Sounds reasonable."

"How's it going?" Stephanie had joined us.

"Katie had a sex dream about James!"

"Thanks, Camille," I snapped. "What happened to not spreading it around?"

"It's only Stephanie."

"Gee, thanks," Stephanie retorted. "So, what was this dream about?"

"I thought it was obvious," I responded. "James and I were doing the nasty."

"Yeah, but was it in a bed, in the shower, against a wall, on the floor, on the ceiling, on a counter, on a couch, in the back of a car – "

"On the ceiling?"

"You kinky bitch."

"That was a question! Who the hell has sex on the ceiling in dreams?"

"Uh, me?"

"You kinky bitch!"

Stephanie looked rather flattered.

"Why are you guys standing in the middle of the hall?" Jo wanted to know as she joined us.

"We're discussing Katie's sex dream about James," Stephanie informed her.

"By all means, let's tell the whole world," I grunted out. "Anyone want to reserve a spot on CNN?"

"We've managed to figure out that apparently Katie did not have sex with James on the ceiling. Clearly she's not creative enough when it comes to sex," Stephanie continued on.

Jo opened and closed her mouth several times. "You guys do know you're discussing this in the middle of the school hallway, right?"

"So?"

James and Kendall appeared in the doorway. Kendall was taller than about eighty-five percent of the student body, and James was probably one of the tallest guys in the whole town.

"Can we discuss this somewhere else?" I hissed to my friends, nodding in the direction of my brother and James.

Stephanie waved at the guys, flagging them down. James and Kendall exchanged slightly apprehensive looks, clearly wondering what Stephanie wanted with them. Stephanie had a habit of being aggressive when it came to guys. It was one reason she and Carlos had yet together, even though they both wanted each other.

"What's up?" James asked, before smiling at me. "Hey, Katie."

I melted as he smiled at me, and then promptly turned into marshmallow goo as he said my name. "Hey."

"Question for both of you," Stephanie propped her hands on her hips. "Have either of you ever had sex on the ceiling?"

They looked at each other again, bewildered expressions flashing across their faces.

"Sex…on the ceiling…?" James repeated as if he wanted to make sure he had heard correctly.

I prayed fervently for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. This couldn't be happening…

"I mean in dreams. Have you ever dreamt about having sex on the ceiling?"

"Sure," Kendall shrugged. "Doesn't everyone?"

Jo looked a little stunned. "You do?"

"Ew," I shuddered. "I so did not need to know that. I could have gone my whole life without ever knowing that. I'm just going to go see if I can get a lobotomy done."

"Thank you!" Stephanie beamed at Kendall. "Your sister apparently isn't creative or original enough to have dreams about having sex on the ceiling."

"Yeah, I'm a freak because I dream about having sex in beds and showers," I grumbled, before realizing what I just said.

James raised an eyebrow at me. "You've been dreaming about having sex in beds and showers?"

"Was it really so hard to tell me the location of your dream?" Stephanie demanded.

"Wait – you had a sex dream?" Kendall burst in. "Was it about James? It was about James, wasn't it? That's why you got so weird when I said it'd be hard for you two to have sex because of the height difference."

"Why would it be weird?" James interrupted. "I like her height. She'd be the perfect height."

"Dude, why would you say that?" Kendall cried.

"Why would you bring up sex between Katie and me? Don't you think that should be between Katie and me?"

"I'm just going to go…" I slinked away, rushing to my locker. I decided that my new mission in life would be to get selective amnesia so that I could forget the last half hour entirely.

James caught up with me a couple of minutes later. "Stephanie called me a freak."

"You don't dream about having sex on the ceiling either?"

"It honestly never occurred to me to."

"Right? She's insane."

"Anyway, you said you don't have dance on Tuesdays and Thursdays, right?"

I nodded. "Correct."

"So, how about you come over tomorrow to help me unpack, and I'll make you cupcakes."

I thought about it, chewing on my lower lip. "I guess I could be convinced…"

"How about bribed?"

"Well, the cupcakes kind of do that already…I suppose I could stop by."

"Cool." He smiled at me. "I'll give you my address in English. I gotta go before I'm late for homeroom."

"See you later."

"See you." He dashed off, and I leaned against my locker, groaning. I had no idea how much of the conversation with Stephanie, Camille, and Jo he had managed to decode, but hopefully he didn't think I was full blown in love with him.

But hey, even if he was, he was making me cupcakes.

And I'd get to hang out with him outside of school – by myself – tomorrow.

Things could have definitely been worse.

* * *

 **So, that was chapter three :) I hope you guys enjoyed it. And if you did, drop me a review and let me know! I love hearing from you :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer : I don't own Big Time Rush or anything recognizable.**

 **ranicious** : **Thank you! I'm sorry for the long wait but I hope you enjoy the chapter :) Thank you for reviewing!**

 **A huge thank you to everyone out there who's still reading my stuff!**

 **A/N : Yay! I'm on a roll today! Things are actually getting updated. I know it's been a really long time since I posted chapter three, and I'm sorry for the wait. Let's just say that things have gotten crazy for me. I'm going to try to update when I can, but I can't promise anything consistent. I'll do my best though :)**

 **Enjoy the chapter! And please review :)**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

 **Katie's POV**

The rest of the day passed by quickly. James gave me his address in English as promised, and I quickly figured out that he only lived a couple of streets over from me. I avoided my friends at lunch, and instead hulled up in the library with _1984_ and my laptop to get my English homework out of the way. When I finally checked my phone right before drama, I saw that Stephanie and Camille had both texted me about two million times to apologize for humiliating me. I rolled my eyes but texted them back to let them know that I forgave them.

James didn't mention the conversation that he and Kendall had walked in on with my friends. Instead, we chatted a little more about music before drama began. When school finally ended, I left the school, driving to the private dance studio where I took dance classes. I headed to the girls' locker room to change into my dance gear – yoga pants, a cropped tank top, and my sturdiest, lightest athletic shoes. I tied my hair up in a ponytail and headed to the dance studio.

I was the only one of my friends who took dance. Jo was on the cheerleading squad and was the editor of the school newspaper, Camille was the president of the drama club, and Stephanie ran the horror movie film club. We had all taken dance in middle school together, but I was the only one who had opted to continue. I loved it, more than almost anything. When the music was blasting, when the beat was pounding, when my brain was shut off and my body was moving on automatic, languidly and fluidly, I let myself go. I didn't have to think about the conversation in the hall that morning, or about the questions about James my parents were sure to ask, or Kendall's dumbass comments, or about James' mysterious past.

Which led me to the next question about James: Did he have a girlfriend back in Minnesota?

I set my tote bag down on the hard wooden floor, and began stretching out.

He didn't, right? I mean, he would have mentioned it last night over text or on IM. But it was one of the questions I had asked him that he hadn't answered.

But he'd been flirting with me. And he didn't seem like the kind of guy to flirt with a girl if he was in a relationship. And he'd had the opportunity to tell me if he had a girlfriend. But he was definitely hiding something. The fact that he wouldn't give me any specific details about his life in Sherwood told me that. And then there were the parts about him just seemingly dropping theater and hockey. I found it very interesting that those were two things he had rejoined the second he got out of Sherwood, Minnesota. But maybe that really did have to do with his parents' divorce. It more than likely did. But maybe I could ask him tomorrow…Preferably without letting on that Camille and I had internet stalked him. Because I was pretty sure he would be seriously creeped out if he found out about that.

Which reminded me, I needed to send him a friend request on Facebook.

I got up and padded over to my phone so that I could get into Facebook. I sent the request and went back to my stretching, just as Madame Du Pris walked in. She was a tall, slender blonde woman who, as she liked to tell us, had been such a beautiful dancer in her youth that she had managed to attract Monsieur Du Pris, a handsome eligible French bachelor who had come over to the States for business. Apparently they were still very much in love and he sponsored – AKA, completely funded – her dance studio.

Normally dance class was the best part of my Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. But today I was still thinking about James. I was distracted, and it must have showed, because Madame Du Pris called to me as the others filed out two hours later. "Mademoiselle Knight! May I speak to you for just a moment?"

I looked at her as I walked over to where I had left my stuff. "Sure. What can I do for you?"

"You appeared distracted. I could almost see the wheels turning in your head. I have never seen you less interested in dance. Is there something you would like to talk about?"

I shrugged. "It's nothing. Just some stupid teenage stuff."

She raised an eyebrow. "You've had stupid teenage stuff going on. This is different."

"It's really not. It's just a boy." I tightened my ponytail. "He's a complete mystery."

"How so?"

"He just…he's from Minnesota. He moved here a couple of weeks ago and we met the first day of school. And I really like him, but he doesn't like talking about his life in Minnesota. I mean, he _really_ doesn't like talking about it. I really don't know anything about him except for some basic facts, and that he's really nice and funny, and I feel like he knows more about me. And I guess I'm just really confused about him."

Madame Du Pris looked at me. "Maybe something happened to him in Minnesota that's making him hesitate about opening up to you. And you've only known him for a few days. If he's not someone who opens up to others easily, that will make a difference. You may need to get to know him better before he'll be ready to talk."

"I guess." I hitched my bag over my shoulder. "He's just…it's so stupid, but there's just something about him. Maybe it's just the whole mystery element, but I'm really into him. But…he said it's lust at first sight."

"You two talked about it?"

"Kind of…not really. I mean, we've flirted. I'm pretty sure he's interested in me, too. But he doesn't believe in love at first sight, and I don't think it's really possible."

"Lust at first sight is a possibility," Madame Du Pris agreed. "That's how it was for Jacques and me. But lust can turn into love. And you're only sixteen. Right now, just enjoy spending time with this boy and try not to get too serious. There will be time for that later on."

"Thanks." I dug my car keys out of my bag. "I'll see you on Friday."

She nodded. "Good luck with him."

"Thanks," I said again. "I have a feeling I'm going to need it." I headed out and climbed into my car. I fished my phone out of my bag and checked it. Camille had texted me about getting a group together to go see a movie on Friday. I texted her back with, " _Yeah, that'd be cool :) Want me to see if James can come?_ "

She replied right away. " _Definitely! The more the merrier. Besides, maybe certain things will happen between you and James in a dark theater, *hint, hint, nudge, nudge* ;)"_

I rolled my eyes and checked my other notifications. James had accepted my friend request.

Fifteen minutes later I pulled into the garage and walked into my house. My mom was home from work and in the process of making dinner – beef stew and a green salad. Most days when she worked she would prepare a slow cooker meal in the morning, but this morning she had had to go into work early. She was a real estate agent and had arranged to meet some clients at a prospective house at eight-thirty this morning. She usually didn't go into her office until nine.

"Hi, sweetie," she greeted me as I kicked off my shoes. "How was your day?"

"It was okay," I shrugged. "I'm going over to James' house tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow. "Will his parents be there?"

Knowing that if I said that I had no idea, my mom would say no way in hell because she and my dad were adamant about chaperones and parental guidance when it came to strange boys that I was interested in and who might be interested in me, I nodded emphatically. "Oh yeah, his mom will be home. She's probably going to help us bake cupcakes." I mentally scolded myself, but I figured after Kendall's comment about James and me having sex this morning, there was no way my mom was going to be willing to let me go to his house unsupervised.

Mom smiled. "What kind of cupcakes are you planning on baking?"

"I think he said something about chocolate. And I'm going to help him unpack."

"It sounds like you two are getting close."

Not as close as I would like. "I hope so," I smiled and headed upstairs, hoping tomorrow would go well, and that maybe, just maybe, I would crack a couple of the Mysteries of James Diamond.

A girl could dream, after all.

Right?

* * *

 **James' POV**

I didn't bother to warn my mom that I was planning on bringing a girl home the next day. That was mostly because she insisted that we watch this self-help mother/son bonding DVD together during our dinner of Thai takeout.

Nothing like eating Pad Thai while listening to some egotistical, self-centered psychologist yammer on and on about how _she_ and _her_ _son_ used to be at complete odds, but now were practically Siamese twins.

"Titillating," I muttered as I shoveled the last bite of Pad Thai into my mouth. I swallowed the noodles and looked at my mom. "I'm finished. Can I go now?"

"Not yet, young man. I want to get through at least the first hour of this."

I groaned, collapsing back against the couch. "Seriously, bonding isn't our problem. The problem is that – "

"The problem is that I went wrong somewhere and screwed you up."

"Oh my God. We've been through this before. It's not your fault!"

"Maybe if I had just taken more time off from work, or if I had encouraged your father to spend more time with you…"

With the way she talked, you would have thought I had shot someone's brains out.

"Or maybe _I'm_ the one who screwed up," I argued. "Or maybe…" I paused, biting off yet another idea that I had vaguely considered over the past few months. But it wasn't right. It wasn't true. There was no way it could be. It was _my_ fault. _I_ was the one to blame. It was so obvious. My mother was the only one who couldn't entirely accept it.

At last the hour was up and my mother resignedly shut the DVD player off, before flipping to TV Land to see what was playing. I padded into the kitchen, thinking about whipping myself up a chocolate milkshake. As I pulled out the chocolate ice cream, milk, and chocolate syrup, a thought struck me, and I shot a text to Katie: " _How do you feel about chocolate milkshakes?_ "

She responded almost at once. " _Love 'em. How do you feel about Oreo chocolate milkshakes?_ "

" _Love 'em ;P We should make some tomorrow._ "

" _Along with the cupcakes? Sounds like a very…sweet…afternoon ;)_ "

" _Hope you don't have anything against sugar rushes_."

I plunked a couple of scoops of ice cream, dumped in a cup of milk, and drizzled in some chocolate syrup before blending the ingredients together. Once everything had been mixed, I poured the concoction into a glass and took a sip. Perfecto.

I cleaned the kitchen back up and made sure that we had all the ingredients for chocolate cupcakes, before checking my phone. Katie had texted me back. " _BTW, is your mom going to be home at any point tomorrow?_ "

My eyebrows shot up. Was there a particular reason why she was asking? Was she hoping my mom wouldn't be there, so that we could possibly…do stuff…? Or was she hoping my mom _would_ be there, so that we _couldn't_ possibly…do stuff? " _She'll be home probably around 5._ "

" _Cool :) I told my mom that your mom would be there, since otherwise my mom will freak and won't let me come over. She has this thing about underage sex and seems to think I'm going to engage in it._ "

" _Oh. Yeah, my mom will be there for a little while, as long as you're planning on staying for that long._ "

" _I am :)_ "

" _Good :)_ "

As I took my phone and milkshake upstairs to my room, I flashed back to the conversation Kendall and I had walked in on in the hall that morning. It sounded like Katie had had a sex dream…and that it quite possibly involved me…And damn, I hoped that was true. Goodness knows she had been the one I thought of when I – ahem – took matters into my own hands the last couple of nights. I mean, I was pretty sure she was interested in me. Actually, not pretty sure. I was damn sure. But I liked the idea of her thinking or dreaming about me in bed. I liked the idea of her wanting me.

Katie and I texted back and forth a little more, but it wasn't long before she was apologizing, saying that dance had worn her out and she had to get some sleep. We said goodnight and I plopped down on my bed, my milkshake completely gone, my empty glass sitting on my nightstand. It occurred to me that I had accepted Katie's friend request earlier, but I hadn't bothered to check out her profile. And now was as good a time as any.

I grabbed my laptop, since it was better for profile stalking than my phone was, and logged into Facebook, before continuing onto Katie's page. It looked pretty normal. There were pictures that she and her friends had posted over the summer. She had a few cheerful statuses, nothing too dramatic like some girls. Her interests included dance, reading, and listening to music. I clicked on her liked books, and my eyebrows skyrocketed. Either her family had no clue how to use Facebook, or she was way braver than most people, because not only had she liked _50 Shades of Grey_ , but she had liked a few other erotic novels as well. Not that I minded. The idea of her lying in bed, squirming in pleasure as she reacted to one of the steamier bits of one of the novels, was enough to make _me_ squirm in pleasure.

I took a deep breath, calming myself down, before continuing on. We liked a lot of the same music, had read quite a few of the same fantasy books, enjoyed plenty of the same movies, and watched a handful of the same shows. _Supernatural_ and _How to Get Away with Murder_ were just a couple.

As I scrolled deeper into her past, I saw "events" that Facebook had posted on her profile: _Katie Knight is now single_. _Katie Knight is now in a relationship with Dak Zevon_. _Katie Knight Was Here with Jett Stetson_.

Who the hell were Dak Zevon and Jett Stetson?!

Well, Dak Zevon was obvious. He and Katie had clearly dated for a few months last year. I clicked on his name so that I could view his profile picture. He was decent looking in a cookie-cutter, vanilla, totally boring sort of way. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A bland smile. Nothing special about him. His profile was open, and I was able to see that he was in a relationship with some blonde chick. At least I didn't have to worry about him as competition. For now.

There wasn't anything to get excited about when it came to Jett Stetson, either. He looked like your average shallow, vain, narcissistic asshole. In his profile picture he wore an Abercrombie and Fitch shirt. I only knew it was Abercrombie and Fitch because my mom was forever trying to get me to drop my t-shirts and dress like some prep school douche bag. Not that I had anything against fashion. I just preferred not to look like…well, like Jett Stetson.

Despite the fact that my gut instinct was telling me to get out now while I still could, I scrolled deeper through Katie's profile, and – yeah, I should have gotten out. I had just come across a picture Dak had apparently uploaded of him and Katie kissing. My stomach rolled, my jaw clenched, and there was a hot roaring noise in my ears. It was a long moment before I realized that I was…jealous.

And fuck. I hated it.

 _It's not like it matters_ , I told myself firmly as I logged out of my account, determined not to put myself through any more hell. _That was last year, way before you and Katie met. And look at your relationship with Charissa. You have no right to be jealous. It's completely hypocritical. Besides, you and Katie aren't even together_.

But it did matter. I didn't like seeing Katie kiss someone else, not even in a picture. Because the moment had been captured, frozen in time, and could never be completely erased, no matter how hard I wished it could be.

I tossed and turned that night, restless. I wondered how many other guys there had been before Dak. I wondered if they had posted pictures of themselves kissing her. And I wondered if she had been with any of them. Intimately. As in, sex. And then I immediately wished I hadn't wondered that, because all it did was make me want to kill something. It wasn't like it mattered in the grand scheme of things if she had slept with any of them. It wasn't like it was going to have this huge impact on my life. And the fact that the idea bothered me more than I cared to admit just made me feel like an even bigger hypocrite. I'd had sex. A lot of it. And how was Katie going to feel when she found out about that? Would she even care? Probably not too much. Wasn't it guys who got all weird about girls being with other guys, while girls weren't usually that phased about guys sleeping with other girls?

I shook my head. Great. Super. I had just confused myself. I had no idea what I was even thinking about. And I really needed to sleep. I was exhausted, and I still had two more days to get through before the weekend rolled around.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew my alarm was blaring and I was groaning into my pillow.

Fucking hell. I hated mornings.

The day dragged by slowly. Completely exhausted from the night before, I was sucking up as much Coke as I possibly could. I needed the caffeine.

As always, English class was one of the highlights of my day. One of the reasons why it was such a highlight came in the form of a certain petite brunette. Katie was in a simple pair of dark rinsed skinny jeans, a pink sweater, and ballet flats. She plopped down in her usual spot next to me, tossing her long dark hair over one shoulder. I caught a whiff of strawberries and cream, and her usual body mist.

"So," she said by way of greeting, "Camille's trying to get everyone to go see a movie with her tomorrow night. Any chance you're interested?"

"Depends on the movie," I replied, determined not to let onto the fact that the idea of her and me in a dark theater definitely interested me.

"Oh, it's that new romantic action comedy. _All Down Hill_ , I believe."

"The one about the FBI agent who gets forced to play bodyguard to a spoiled rich girl?"

"That's the one."

"Sure, I'll go with you guys."

She beamed. "Awesome. I'll text you the details tonight. Or Kendall might. Either way, you'll hear from someone."

English began at that moment, and our conversation ended.

The rest of the day passed by a little more quickly after that, and before I knew it, the last bell was ringing and everyone was rushing to their lockers.

I headed home and threw my backpack in my bedroom and plugged my dying phone into the charger, before running a comb through my hair and deciding that I was acting like a fucking girl. Then I wondered if maybe I should change clothes.

Before I could even open my closet door, however, the doorbell rang.

Katie had arrived.

I hurried downstairs and threw open the door. She stood there, a small black purse over her shoulder.

"Where's your backpack?" was all I could think of to say.

"Oh, I left it in my car," she shrugged. "I keep my purse in my backpack at all times. It's more convenient to keep my keys and phone in, you know?"

I nodded, even though I had no idea what she was talking about. Weren't her jeans pockets big enough for her phone and keys?

She laughed as she stepped inside. "You look like I just spoke a different language."

"Why do you carry a purse around?" I asked. "I mean, can't you keep your phone and keys and stuff in your jeans pockets?"

Katie grinned. "Put your hands in my pockets."

"Excuse me?"

"Do it. You'll understand."

Shrugging, I forced my fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. I could only get two in. I paused, frowning.

Katie cracked up. "Exactly. Guy jeans have way bigger pockets than girl jeans, especially when you have to buy one of the smallest sizes. I sometimes have to get jeans from the kids' section because I can't find any that fit in juniors. They're all too long."

"That's insane," I agreed.

"Right? I'm a little jealous. You can keep your phone and your keys and your wallet in your pockets." She emphasized this by slipping her hands into my front jeans pockets.

"Hey, do you at least have decent back pockets?" I wanted to know.

She grinned impishly. "Figure it out."

I slipped my fingers out of her front pockets, and managed to slide four of my fingers into her back pockets. She was letting me touch her ass. She was totally letting me touch her ass. "Much better."

"Mmm hmm." She slipped her hands out of my pockets and dropped her purse on the floor. "So, are we going to stand around here with you touching my ass all afternoon, or are we going to unpack?"

"I have no issues with touching your ass all afternoon. It's a nice one."

Her grin widened. "You can thank years of dance for it."

I reluctantly withdrew my hands. "Unpacking it is. Come on, up to my room. And don't worry, I promise to be a perfect gentleman."

"But what if I don't want you to be a perfect gentleman?"

"My mom's going to be home within an hour and a half."

"Perfect gentleman it is."

"Damn straight." I smacked her ass and smirked when she yelped.

"That was not very gentlemanly," Katie grumbled as she followed me upstairs.

"Are you complaining?"

"Not particularly."

"Good." I led her up to my room, which was still strewn with cardboard boxes. I got into iTunes and turned my computer's volume on full blast so that one of my favorite playlists was pounding out.

"Nice choice in songs," Katie commented as I passed her a pair of scissors.

"You listen to Breaking Benjamin?"

"A little. I really like this song – _Diary of Jane_."

I smiled and knelt down on the floor next to her, getting to work.

Luckily I had already unpacked pretty much anything that might be embarrassing – such as boxers – so I was able to relax as we worked. About a half hour into it I suggested we run downstairs so that we could start on the cupcakes.

I pulled out the ingredients, and set to work on showing Katie how to make homemade chocolate cupcakes. She seemed to enjoy herself, and once the cupcakes were in the oven, we cleaned up the kitchen and headed back upstairs to resume packing.

"I guess this is one way to get to know you," Katie commented as she pulled out a Good Charlotte concert t-shirt.

I glanced at her. "You mean because I won't talk to you about my life back in northern Minnesota?"

Her eyes flicked up to mine. "So you are being mysterious and vague on purpose." It wasn't a question. It was a confirmation.

I nodded.

"Is there a specific reason for it…?"

I worked on unpacking a box laden with books. "I just – it wasn't a very happy time. My parents divorced, and I did some stupid shit."

"Does that involve a girl…?"

I paused, before slowly nodding. I knew we were treading on dangerous territory, but Katie had let me touch her ass earlier. The least I could do was give her a reason as to why I didn't like talking about my life in Minnesota.

"Are you two still together?"

"No." I brushed my bangs out of my eyes. "We – uh – we broke up last spring."

"Oh." She paused, before asking, "What was her name?"

"Charissa."

"Why'd you two break up?"

"It's a long, complicated story. But…basically, we weren't good for each other. It was a toxic relationship. Extremely toxic."

"Oh. How long were you two together?"

"For about a year and a half."

"Wow…" Katie blew her bangs out of her face. "Did you love her?"

"Does it matter?"

"I mean…maybe it shouldn't. But…" She shrugged, and I flashed back to the night before, when I had been boiling mad over the picture of her and Dak kissing. It mattered. It mattered because she liked me. Because she was going to be jealous, no matter what, but she wanted the facts. She wanted to know what she was dealing with. The problem was, I was never going to tell her exactly what she was dealing with. She was better off not knowing.

"I thought I loved her," I said quietly. "Maybe I did, for a little while. I don't know."

We fell silent, the only sounds being Aerosmith blaring in the background, and the ripping of packing tape.

And then Katie pulled out a box of condoms. She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You packed condoms?"

I blushed a bright red. "I was wondering where those went…"

She examined the box. "You packed a half-empty box of condoms? Dude, you're aware you can get them on the west coast, right?"

"I've heard."

She shook her head and tossed them to me. "Well, I guess that answered my next question."

"Which was?"

"Whether or not you're a virgin. Unless you've been using those condoms as water balloons, I'd say you've had sex."

"Do you care?"

"No," she said, just a little bit too quickly.

"Would it make you feel any better if I said I haven't had sex in almost six months?"

"I told you, James, I don't care. What you've done with other girls is in the past. It doesn't matter."

"Right."

"I really don't care."

"I believe you."

"No you don't. God, I wouldn't believe me." She took a deep breath, pushing her hair out of her face. "Look. Yes, it bugs me a little. I mean…okay, I guess it's pretty obvious that we're into each other. For some weird reason I'm drawn to you. Fuck, I sound totally stupid, like a character out of a bad romance novel. But whatever the reason, I like you and I'm jealous of whoever the hell this Charissa is. It doesn't really matter, it really doesn't. It's in the past and I get that. I guess it just bothers me a little is all."

I stared at her for a long moment, not really sure what to say. And then I blurted out, "Did you sleep with Dak or Jett?"

"What? No! Wait – how the hell did you find out about Dak and Jett?"

At that moment, the timer went off, signaling that the cupcakes were more than likely ready.

"We're continuing this discussion when we get downstairs," Katie threatened. "I want to know who told you about Dak and Jett."

I gulped. I really needed to learn how to keep my mouth shut.


End file.
